Grr I got stuck in New York for two more days because it was snowing in Chicago. And the best part? It barely snows a few inches while I'm there but as soon as I get home, my aunt calls to say there's a blizzard. :l Of course.

Third person POV

Falcon saw her fall first. He'd kept an eye on Fierce all day since she'd practically fainted this morning. It was obvious, to him at least, that something was wrong. She kept falling slightly behind and she'd been slowly sinking lower in the past 10 minutes.

So when she completely stopped flapping and started plummeting towards the ground, he was somewhat prepared to swoop down and catch her. He could hear the mingled shouts of the "flock" as they called themselves and his own little group as he grabbed her and started rising back up to where everyone else was.

"Falcon?" He leaned his head closer to hear her. "I'm sorry." That suprised him. He'd expected her to demand he let go, claiming she was fine when she oh so obviously wasn't, but she goes and says she's sorry.

"About what?" A stupid question, he should've asked what's wrong even if she most likely wouldn't tell him. But she pasted out before he could get his answer. And as the wind swept her hair off the back of her neck he saw why.

December 13, 2009 1:34 PM X19B

God he was so stupid. Why did he believe her this morning? Well not so much believing as giving in, but either way he had know something was wrong. And he'd let it go, gone along with her insistence she was fine.

"Goddamnit Fierce, your not supposed to die!" He whispered. What really got him was the fact that she'd tempted the whitecoats numerous times with each new thing she destroyed and received nearly every imaginable punishment short of flat out killing her, but the thing that finally killed her was a lousy expiration date. Guess they always won in the end.

"She's expiring," he said flatly. That stopped all the commotion. Clementine finally broke the silence.

"That's impossible. Someone would have noticed the date sooner."

"Here, look," he growled. Clementine swooped down to look at the deadly date stamped on the back of Fierce's neck. Realization crossed her features.

"X19B. It's a drug, causes early expiration. There's a way to reverse the effects, given your not already dead." Falcon didn't question how she knew this. Experience? Possibly. Clementine knew a lot about what went on at the Academy, more than anyone, even Fierce.

"Well?" She blinked what looked like the beginings of tears out of her eyes.

"It's an antidote only the whitecoats have it. If we go back there we all die. I'm sorry." No, it wasn't possible. To have the cure so close, but to get it what certain death. Either way, she was dead.

"Jeb was a whitecoat. Maybe he has it." The leader, Max that was her name, said, "He's at my mom's house." Falcon didn't notice the slight look of disgust that crossed her features. he didn't say anything, just took off in the direction they'd been heading.

Please don't let it be too late.

Jeb was pissing him off. With his superior tone of voice and his treating of Fierce as a science exhibit he was really getting on Falcon's nerves.

"Remarkable, just remarkable," he said while rubbing one of Fierce's ears between his fingers. "How did they manage to put both feline and avian genes into it without complete disaster?" Falcon narrowed his eyes. He'd made sure not to mention he was part dog, golden retriever to be exact, but you couldn't tell unless you knew. He didn't have dog ears or a tail, no sharp teeth, just very slightly pointed kanines. His hair and wings really showed though. Both were a shade of golden red exactly like a golden's coat.

Falcon cleared his throat pointedly.

"Ah, yes. Give her an hour if she wakes up great, if she doesn't she'll stay in a coma for good. Fifty-fifty chance."

"That's it? I thought that crap you had was the antidote!"

"Well if you had got here sooner it would be 100% working, but given we only had three minutes the chances of survival aren't definite." With that Jeb turned and left the room. Falcon let out a breath and began pacing the room. At 57 minutes he was ready to kill himself. He never truly understood how Clementine was so depressed. Right after her disastrous escape attempt she'd been practically dead. All the life seemed to have beensucked out of her. Now he knew how it felt, like losing a part of your soul. The part of your soul that meant something. The part that kept you alive when you were starved and in pain locked in a dog cage.

At fifty eight minutes and twenty three seconds, he breathed a sigh of relief.